Here, Fishy, Fishy

Kaipo and Ilikea were seated on some sandbags with their feet in the water when Lei and Kaukahi returned, unfortunately rock-less.

Ili stood, dusting off her butt. “My feet are baby smooth again. What’s the plan?”

A twisty churning filled Lei’s belly as she looked out onto the water. At least there wasn’t much surf today. “Now we build the fishpond.”

Ilikea leaned around her, looking down the beach. “Right. And just how many rocks did you and Kaukahi find on your little sojourn? ’Cause it sure sounded like you said we’re going to build a fishpond. What’ll we build it out of? Tourists’ backpacks?”

Lei turned to look down the beach as she tightened her hold on her own pack’s straps. There were no rocks in sight, just beach towels, chairs, umbrellas, and bags of various sizes. Up the sand a bit more, past the surfboard-rental shop, on a platform of mortared rock, were the Healer Stones of Kapaemāhū. These four massive Nā Pōhaku Ola Kapaemāhū ā Kapuni—Stones of Life—were off-limits though because they were:

1. Behind a wrought-iron fence.

2. Heavier than elephants and not about to be rolled into the sea to form a wall.

3. Sacred monuments to four incredible people of dual male and female spirit who brought healing arts to Hawaiʻi, so Lei wouldn’t consider it anyway, even if she could pump Makani up to a hurricane of elephant-moving force.

“Right. That seems to be an issue.” Lei chewed on her lip. Kaipo was still just sitting there, watching her, blinking with those big owly eyes of his. Sitting…on sandbags! “Sandbags! Yes! We can borrow these for a night or maybe, like, twenty-four hours. Build a temporary wall, and then put them back.”

Kaukahi barked out a laugh. “Right. Um, have you ever tried moving one of these?” She kicked the one Ili was on. “It’s as heavy as a beached whale.”

“Seriously? A whale? Hyperbole much?” Lei asked, busting out a vocabulary word that would have made her mom proud. “Come on, we can do it.”

“Never know till you try,” Kaipo said.

Lei grinned. It really was great having him back on her side. She kicked off her sneakers and waded into the ankle-deep water near Kaipo. He scooted off his sandbag as Lei grabbed the corner and heaved.

Then heaved again.

It didn’t even budge. Not a smidge. Maybe some water trickled out of the corner that she sorta smushed, but that was it.

“Everyone, a little help, ke ʻoluʻolu?”

Kaipo positively beamed at her use of Hawaiian. “Since you asked so nicely.” He grabbed the other corner, and Ilikea got in position on the opposite side of the wall, ready to push. Kaukahi took up a spot next to the bat-girl.

“All right, on three,” Lei said. Makani shot a breeze at her to let her know they were ready. “One”—she adjusted her grip—“two”—she braced her feet and bent at the knees—“three!”

She pulled with all her might and promptly fell backward into the water. She yanked her knees up against her chest to avoid the falling sandbag crushing her legs. Kaipo was a giant splash next to her. Kaukahi took sloshing steps away and managed to stay upright, and Ilikea broke into a fit of giggles.

“Omigosh, are you okay? I swear, it just slid!”

Lei quickly jumped to her feet, water running out of her shirt and shorts. “Ugh, I’m good. Kaipo?”

“Yeah, good,” he said, standing, too. “Try again?”

They left the bag that had submerged under the water and moved on to the one that Ilikea had been sitting on. Trying to be more careful this time, they pulled and pushed until, slowly, they were able to lift it. It had to be thanks to Makani, because Lei was honestly fairly sure Kaukahi was close to accurate on the whole “whale weight” analogy. Gently, they moved it into place. They needed the pond to be big enough to hold all the spirits without going overboard and killing themselves by moving more than was necessary. With the board-rental place closed down from the morning’s mayhem, there were fewer surfers this close to shore. The beach was crowded, but when a few people shot them curious looks, Ilikea confidently stated: “We’re with the DLNR youth volunteer organization revitalizing the beach space.”

They nodded like that made complete sense and left them alone.

Lei shot Ilikea a grin and Kaukahi said, “Nice.” Ilikea shoulder shimmied as they set the next bag.

After a little bit, some local surfers paddled in from where the waves were breaking in the distance. One of them spoke up. “Whatchu doing with da sandbags?”

Lei looked at Kaukahi, Ilikea, and Kaipo. Kaipo gave a slight nod. He trusted her.

“We’re borrowing them. Some sketchy stuff is happening during the parade with…uh…vengeful ʻaumākua, and we want to build a temporary loko iʻa.”

“Loko kuapā style,” Kaukahi inserted.

“Everything can go back tomorrow night. We just gotta be ready in the meantime.” Lei wanted to make sure they understood they weren’t messing with stuff permanently.

“Those bags look heavy. You need help?” The surfer didn’t even question their reasoning.

“Yes! We’d love help. Really. We’re dying out here.” Ilikea wobbled dramatically.

The surfers all lined up, and Lei, Kaukahi, Ili, and Kaipo loaded sandbags onto their longboards. They paddled them over to the next spot in the wall. The surfers on shortboards all helped place the bags perfectly as the longboarders paddled to get the next round from Lei’s crew.

Lei’s fingers felt like they were going to fall off when her stomach let out a rumble that would have been embarrassing if she wasn’t so exhausted. But there were still no Menehune in sight.

“Do you think they changed their minds?” Lei asked as they put the final bag onto a surfboard. They still needed to figure out how to make the mākāhā—the gates that let the sea creatures in without letting them out. It was a little trickier than normal since the animals would be all different sizes. “Are they not coming?”

“I think it was a complete anomaly that we’ve seen them at all,” Kaipo said. “They’re likely waiting for us to finish our part and then will come once we’ve left.”

That made a lot of sense. Still, Lei had been hoping to thank them again. Maybe someday. She turned to the surfers, who were all cheering as the final bag was placed. “You are amazing! Mahalo nui for all your help today. Our noodle arms couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You seriously saved us,” Ilikea agreed. “My toes are so pruney, I think I’ll be able to find pearls in the wrinkles.”

“My family would have been disappointed if we hadn’t helped,” the surfer said. “They raised us better than that. A hui hou!”

The surfers all made their goodbyes, then paddled out to catch a few more waves.

“I cannot believe they still have energy to surf,” Lei said.

“Surfers are strong as anything with all the paddling they do,” Kaukahi mused.

“I need food,” Ilikea whined as she sloshed out of the water and flopped onto her back in the sand. “I’m wasting away. Withering away. What’s another W-word for starving?”

“Wilting?” Kaukahi offered.

“Definitely wilting,” Ilikea said with the back of her hand against her forehead, eyes closed.

Kaukahi sat next to her. “Hey, that was some good hauling you did out there.”

“I’m a regular forklift,” Ilikea replied, keeping her eyes shut.

“I can see your way of showing affection is through helping,” Kaukahi said.

She looked up at Lei and Lei nodded encouragingly. This was good. Kaukahi was figuring it out!

Ili’s eyes cracked open. “Yeah?”

“Just wanted to say, I appreciate the help you’ve given me over the years. I’m sorry I’ve been so self-absorbed.”

Now Ilikea was really awake. Lei didn’t think the bat-girl could smile any bigger.

“Well, sure. You’ve had a lot going on. Happy to help. Helping is helpful and makes folks happy.”

Kaipo nudged Ilikea’s foot with his, ending the giddy rambling. “You’re gonna get all sandy. Come on, you won’t be allowed in the car.”

“I’ll fly. Wait.” She moved her arms up off the sand, but they fell back with a thud. “Nope, zero wings for me. Too dead. Gimme a minute.”

“It’s already seven thirty. Aunty Lori is going to be meeting us at Liliha Bakery in half an hour,” Kaukahi said. “She wanted to pick up some coco puffs for the pāʻū riders’ breakfast.”

“Yessss, coco puffs give me life,” Ilikea said as Kaukahi and Lei helped her to her feet.

“I don’t know how you eat that stuff,” Kaipo chided.

“You don’t need to have any. More for me!” Ilikea retorted, speed-walking down the flagstone pathway, apparently reenergized by Kaukahi’s praise. “Last one to Liliha is a rotten egg!”

---

The International Market Place was hopping. Small kids were sticking their hands into the stream that ran through the middle of the three-story, open-air shopping complex. A massive banyan tree with lanterns strung from its enormous branches grew out of the center. They headed up the escalators slowly, stuck behind two girls recording themselves doing a dance in fancy dresses and trendy sneakers, totally oblivious to the group hoping to hurry past them.

The second floor felt like a tree house. Or, no, not a house—like a tree village. Pathways and bridges appeared to float through the banyan tree and in the air surrounding it, providing views to the stream and trees below. There was a grassy stage area off in one nook, where a trio of musicians in cream-and-tan aloha wear harmonized and played stringed instruments. A hum of pau hana energy filled the space. Lei watched as people laughed and caught up over delicious food and drinks. Long nights of poor sleep combined with long hours of work had exhaustion practically pulling her to her knees.

Kaipo caught Lei’s eye. “Maybe after the parade, when this is all over, we can just chill. You’ll still have a week of vacation, right?”

She gave Kaipo a smile, knowing their definitions of chill were probably in complete alignment for once. If only she’d never picked that flower. They could be home right now, listening to Tūtū tell stories rather than trying to save humanity. Was he the laughing-stock of ʻaumākua since he had such a screwup for a descendant? The surfer who helped move sandbags earlier had mentioned their ʻaumakua. Had word already spread through the coconut wireless and all the ʻaumākua had warned their families about Lei? “Don’t be like her, she got her ʻaumakua tortured and our entire culture may pay the price for her insolence.”

“Yeah. Let’s just get through tomorrow and then figure it out,” Lei said, swallowing hard.

Her face must have shown her guilt because Kaipo kept pushing.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing, it’s fine.” Lei waved her hand like she could brush him off.

“How long have I known you? You really think an ‘it’s fine’ is gonna work?”

Lei was aware that Kaukahi had leaned toward them while looking up the escalator. “We’ll discuss it later.”

Kaipo nodded and she knew he’d hold her to that. He had a memory like a steel trap.

“Okay,” Ilikea said, “I saw this mental exercise on TV once. Imagine the worst-case scenario with me.”

Lei tucked her hands under her arms. “Uh, the kuewa decide not to land on the trees that have the traps in them, they outnumber us a bazillion to one, peck out the eyes of the children, and herd them all into the ocean to drown. How’s that?”

“Great, excellent envisioning. Now we’ll be happy with anything that happens that isn’t that!” Ilikea said with a grin.

Kaipo’s mouth hung open. Makani blew at Ilikea so hard the girl nearly fell over.

“Hey! Watch it,” Ilikea said, straightening her plumeria. “I was just trying to help.”

“Definitely not helpful,” Kaukahi said stepping off the escalator on the third floor.

As they approached the long line for the bakery, the music from below grew to a piercing whine of a microphone malfunction, then shut off completely. The four friends turned from the line as one and walked to the balcony to look at the grassy field.

Folks were still sitting at white folding tables, enjoying their lūʻau feast. Heads had turned to see what was going on with the musicians, but some groups still chattered away obliviously. The performers were checking cords, trying to figure out where the power had gone. Sound guys crouched down to check plugs and wires. Nothing really weird to see. Right?

Then why did Lei have the worst feeling in her naʻau?

There. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a rat slinking along the base of a stone wall with a cord in its mouth, heading toward a little girl in a dress.

“Rat!” she cried out.

“ʻIole!” Ili said.

Kaipo was already looking around him for an out-of-sight nook to change.

“You’re on your own, boss,” Ili said. “That thing is as big as me.”

“Come on,” Lei said.

Ili and Kaukahi followed her and dashed back to the down escalator. They squeezed through the people to get to the second floor, then ran around to the next set of escalators to the first floor as a beat of wings brushed the tops of their heads.

“Kaipo’s on it,” Lei said. “Keep going!”

When they hit the main level, they hurried through the thick and slow-as-hardening-pahoehoe crowd.

“Where’d it go?” Lei asked, scanning the ground.

Ilikea heaved by her side. “I have really got to start working on my human cardio again,” she said between pants.

Screams broke out near the stage. And soon people started to run. Unfortunately, they were packed in like sardines, and as they ran, their tables flipped over. Kālua pig and poi went flying all over aloha shirts and colorful dresses.

“Oh boy. ’Scuse me!” Lei squeezed her way to the front.

Kaipo had the rat pinned on the ground and was looking like he was torn between eating it and setting it free. Lei tried to hurry over, but a strong hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun her around.

“Don’t get close,” a stranger said. “Pueo talons are intense. Don’t usually see them around here. It could be sick.”

Taking a cue from the fact that he said pueo and not owl, she gave the truth a shot. She didn’t have time to make something else up. “It’s okay, he’s my ʻaumakua.”

The man considered her for a moment, then let her go. “All right. Go gettum, then.”

Lei nodded and refocused on Kaipo. He was still trying to figure out what to do when Lei broke through. Owls didn’t really have a lot of facial expressions, but Lei decided he looked relieved to see her.

The rat was snapping and hissing, pinned beneath the talons that kept it staked on the ground.

“Can you do something about that?” Lei asked, and Kaipo used his beak as a clamp to hold the rat’s head in place. He must have been feeling generous, because he didn’t instantly crush the creature.

“Thanks,” Lei said automatically, reaching carefully for the tiny necklace on its neck. She undid the clasp and tucked it securely into her backpack. “Got it. Why don’t you go ahead and let it go? I’ll get you a coco puff.”

Kaipo removed his beak from the rat’s head. “It tried to bite a kid,” he snarled.

“Kaipo, I guarantee a coco puff tastes better than rat brains. Leave it. We have the necklace.” She sighed. “You’re gonna regret eating an ʻaumakua if I don’t stop you.”

She put her hands on her hips. Kaipo blinked one eye. Then the other. Then, one claw at a time, he pulled his talons out from the lawn.

“Fine,” he growled.

Looking very put out, he beat his wings and took off. Problem solved, Lei turned to see Ilikea and Kaukahi looking at something over her head, mouths fixed in identical frozen screams.

“Oh, for flap’s sake, what now?” Lei said, following their eyes.

Immediately, she wished she hadn’t.